


Between Dusk and Dawn

by lovelessly



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Daddy Kink, M/M, Oral Fixation, Pseudo-Incest, Slash, Vampires, putting it in the pooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelessly/pseuds/lovelessly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Extremely old kink meme fill reposted for archive purposes) </p><p>For the prompt - France/America: Interview with the Vampire meets Twilight. Somehow, there is no bloodplay in this, just sappy romance and sexings and considerable deviation from the original mythologies. France is supposed to be like Lestat, America like Louis but to be honest, he's an Edward Cullen. Once again, sorry for the terribleness, these fics were really good when I wrote them 4 or 5 years ago, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Dusk and Dawn

Even before he could see him or smell him, he could feel his father’s irresistible presence through some other unnatural sense. He followed the thrumming in the air eagerly, unable to resist the blood ties that drew his body inexorably to its creator’s embrace. As he tied the boat to the pier and ran back to the mansion, the deep viridian of the Louisiana marshlands melted away into a shadowy green blur, the sound of frogs and cicadas suddenly hushed.

Alfred pushed through the wrought iron gates, boots crunching lightly on the gravel pathway, a joyful grin on his lips. It had been several years since Francis had last visited him, and this unexpected call made him almost shiver in anticipation. Bypassing the front door, he circled around to the back of the mansion, easily scaling a tall oak tree festooned with Spanish moss and dropping down from an overhanging branch onto the rooftop. He could smell his father’s scent now, a musky undertone of roses overlaid with a spicy tang of his favorite merlot, a scent that never failed to make his heart race with its familiar decadence.

Though he had taken care to remain silent during his descent, Francis was already smiling up at him from where he was leaning against the balcony railing.

“Bonsoir, papa!” Alfred slid off the roof and landed lightly onto the balcony, then stepped over to catch the older man in a rough embrace.

“Bonsoir, mon fils,” Francis replied with a laugh, grateful that their kind needed no breath because Alfred was squeezing him much too tightly. “Have you missed me that much?”

“Of course!” Alfred pouted charmingly, letting go at last. “You rarely visit, and you never tell me when you are coming to see me!”

Francis smiled and tipped his head upward to kiss his son on both cheeks. “Forgive me, but I never know when I have the chance to slip away to your charming swamps. And I thought you liked surprises, oui?”

Alfred seemed to consider this and then nodded in agreement, resting his forehead against Francis’. “I missed you so much, papa. I love you, you know that,” he whispered, and Francis’s eyes widened upon hearing his normally exuberant and reckless son speak so unwaveringly, so passionately. “I… I hate it when you leave me, and I can not follow you.”

“But you have already followed me into eternity. Surely that is enough?” Francis asked quietly, cold fingers stroking Alfred’s pale, too-young face.

“No, because I want you here at my side always. Isn’t that what you created me for? To be your companion?”

Sighing, Francis shook his head. His sweet Alfred, so naïve to the ways of the vampire, even after all of this time spent in the shadows. “Mon couer, I created you because you begged me, and I loved you too much to refuse. If there was any way I could have…”

“Papa, please don’t talk like that,” Alfred pleaded. “What’s happened has happened. I am here now, I am yours. Yours, forever.” Then Alfred smiled that dazzling smile of his, mesmerizing enough to cause mortal women to faint if they stared at him for too long, and Francis returned it, half-amused, half-impressed.

“You are my student, but I think I have nothing more to teach you,” he commented dryly, causing Alfred to grin and blush every so faintly. “If you don’t mind, I would like to continue this discussion inside, since your local fauna seems to hold a blood vendetta against me.”

“Oh, papa, the mosquitoes just look scary, they wouldn’t want to actually bite you,” Alfred teased as he opened the doors and led Francis inside the bedroom.

 

The room felt cool and dry compared to the sultry humidity outside, and with a contented sigh, Francis sat on the edge of the four-poster bed, sinking slightly into the down-filled mattress. Encouraged, he quickly took off his boots, then flopped backwards onto the covers, indulging himself in the few luxuries that Alfred owned.

Meanwhile, Alfred had been covertly admiring the sight of his father’s long golden hair spread out on the deep blue blanket, the shade of which further enhanced those sparkling eyes, glancing over the slender figure dressed in finery that was both outdated and yet arresting in its tastefulness. His father was perfect, a prince among their kind, and Alfred felt something stirring in him just knowing how fortunate he was to have Francis as his master. 

As if reading his thoughts, Francis smiled at him again, waving him over, fingernails glittering like crystal in the lamplight. 

“If you wish to become my companion, I need to see proof of your desire for me,” he whispered seductively, even as Alfred settled on top of him, hip to hip, chest against chest, the younger man pressing their lips together artlessly. Francis let his mouth be claimed, drinking in the fragrant sweetness of his well-favored child, letting the breaths that they did not need to take mix and fill their lungs. He opened his eyes halfway when they parted, looking up into Alfred’s handsome sculpted face, that even in stillness radiated with the life he had long abandoned. How Alfred retained such vibrancy was beyond Francis’ comprehension, and it took every ounce of his self-discipline to keep himself at a distance, so that his precious child could look this happy forever, unburdened by the ennui and depression that plagued the older vampires.

However, it was clear Alfred wanted his company, that he felt lonely in this wide continent without another of their kind to confide in. Perhaps Alfred had wanted him ever since that first night, when Francis chanced upon an innocent tow-headed adolescent at a masquerade in the old quarter, staring entranced at the mysterious French aristocrat who charmed him with champagne and dulcet compliments, and then whisked him away to take him on his guardian’s own bed. That evening of unbridled lust had marked the start of their forbidden relationship, which Francis had almost regretted initiating, if not for the utterly heady delight he felt upon seeing the boy’s resulting obsession with him.

Oh, eventually he found out what he was - living in New Orleans amidst legends of loup-garous and witches and zombies had lent Alfred an extra sensitivity to the paranormal - but the discovery only fueled his passion for Francis, in turn igniting a desire that Francis thought he no longer possessed. And somehow, Alfred in his mortal state could influence Francis like no other being could, human or vampire, so that when he turned, Francis only suffered the briefest flash of guilt at this moment of weakness.

Truly, it was worth it.

“What are you thinking about, papa?” Alfred asked, running long marble-like fingers through the fine silk of Francis’ hair. “I can never guess your thoughts, even though you can read mine so clearly.”

“I was only remembering, Alfred, and thinking of how strange we must be.” Because no other vampire had sired a child quite like Alfred, and their bond had lasted for far longer than even he had expected.

“Well, you are French and thus strange by birth, but I still love you despite that.”

That made Francis laugh, a deep melodious sound that welled up from his throat freely.

“Merci, you are too kind.” 

Alfred ducked his head shyly, letting blond hair fall forward into his eyes as he kissed the other man’s cool pale lips once more. Almost hesitantly, for they had never been this physically close after he became a vampire, he slid one leg in between Francis’ thighs, hands nervously unknotting the cravat and loosening the silk shirt.

Still surprised by the intensity of Alfred’s desire, how deep it ran, even stronger than the bloodlust their kind must succumb to, Francis wondered just what he had unleashed when he created his son, if this union of their immortal bodies would change the nature of their already unique bond somehow.

For now, he allowed the boy to kiss his bared throat and graze sharp teeth across his jugular, gasping in delight as Alfred bit down at the shoulder and then the collarbone hard enough to leave bruises on flawless white skin. Moving down a bit, Alfred paused long enough to reiterate his disapproval of Francis’ grooming habits, which made the older man snort and laugh.

“Does it really bother you, mon cher?” Because his hair would just grow back anyway.

“Well, not enough to make me stop,” Alfred admitted with a cheeky wink. Then he resumed his exploration of Francis’ body, sucking and gnawing contentedly at a nipple, nimble fingers twisting and teasing at the other one.

Cradling the boy’s skull with his hands, Francis let out a low breathy groan, his body alight with pain-induced pleasure, one part of his mind noticing at the same time how hard and aroused the other had become in such a short period of time. Now that was very intriguing.

Without any warning, Francis rolled his hips up into Alfred’s groin, causing him to let go, jerking away in surprise.

“S-stop!” he gasped as Francis continued to rub against him shamelessly, his own body responding in fierce, growing want. “Father, p-please stop… oh God, oh God,” he whispered (somewhat ironically), his cheeks faintly flushed with another’s blood, eyelids fluttering closed as he helplessly rutted against his father. He wanted to stop, needed to hold himself back as a proper lover should, but decades of fantasies crashed into his consciousness as he ground his hips against Francis’ legs, and he could not resist those compulsions any longer.

Below him, Francis raptly committed to memory the sight of Alfred’s open vulnerable expression, blood-tinged lips parted slightly, fair brows furrowed as he focused on finding that sought-after release, the bright Adonis to his pale Apollo.

When he judged the time to be right, the older man snapped his hips upward one last time, and Alfred nearly sobbed in ecstasy as he reached his peak, shouting his father’s name in relief.

 

As the last tremors of his orgasm faded away, Alfred reluctantly opened his eyes, not daring to look at his father’s face, not after what he had just done, what he had just said. He bit his lower lip in anxious mortification, a habit from his human life that did not quite suit his current status. But Francis said nothing, only reached up and pulled Alfred closer to lie on top of him, rubbing his broad back with soothing motions.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” Alfred finally mumbled, still not facing Francis. “It just… happened. I won’t do it again, promise.”

“Do what?” Francis asked gently, combing a lock of Alfred’s hair off of his forehead. “You did nothing wrong.”

Alfred glanced up, cerulean eyes wide in a mixture of relief and surprise. His lips moved soundlessly, as if trying to comprehend, and Francis placed a slender finger against the boy’s mouth to silence him.

“I only wish you had told me earlier that this is what you wanted. I would have said yes. Anything for you, Alfred.”

“Francis…” Alfred whispered, trying the name again, to see the other’s smile of warm acceptance. Laughing, he kissed Francis once more, so earnestly, so gratefully, it would have left a mere mortal breathless in delight. “God, you don’t know, I’ve been wanting to do that for so long!”

“Oh, mon fils, why stop at just this, hmm? The night is still young, so let us take pleasure in it… together,” Francis replied, his voice soft and dark with desire. Alfred nodded, still faintly blushing, and got up, taking off his shirt and then his trousers and boots as quickly as he could without tripping over his own feet. Admiring the pale toned body gleaming in the lamplight, Francis decided to reposition himself more comfortably on the bed, letting the downy pillows cushion his head. Now fully nude, Alfred knelt on the mattress and placed his hands over Francis’ own before the other could unbuckle his belt.

“Here, let me do that,” he offered shyly, as if Francis would refuse him. Francis let Alfred disrobe him, tossing the trousers on the floor, and sighed blissfully as the younger vampire kissed the sole of his foot, his ankle, the insides of his thighs. Even so many years after their last tryst, Alfred still remembered what Francis enjoyed, and as his son bent forward to take him in that wondrously talented mouth, Francis almost cursed himself for not renewing the physical side of their relationship sooner. But he had important matters to attend to, so that this could happen, and that was the last coherent thought he had for a while.

Alfred was more than happy to suck Francis off and leave it at that, but before he could finish, his father had pulled him away. He whined in disappointment, trying to duck down and take his cock in his mouth again, to slide the cool hard flesh in between his lips, to suck and lick and please his beloved papa like he used to do when he was a simple mortal youth.

“Enough, enough,” he heard Francis whisper, sounding strained yet terribly pleased. “Come lie with me, my child.”

He could not disobey that gorgeous voice, no more than the tides could resist the pull of the moon, and so Alfred moved up and stretched out beside Francis, looking at him expectantly. When Francis pressed two fingers to his lips, he opened his mouth and sucked on them hungrily before they pulled out, and could not help gasping in pleasure to next feel them exploring between his legs, slipping into his waiting body with practiced ease. Alfred tried to keep from squirming around too much, but it was so, so hard, because he had been dreaming of this for too many years, unable to achieve any satisfaction by himself.

Amused by such shameless impatience, Francis freed his fingers and adjusted his position languidly, so they could see each other. With one hand guiding his erection into place, he used the other to spread Alfred’s legs further apart. Pausing briefly, Francis then pushed into Alfred, gradually filling him, tensing slightly as the other’s body arced in order to receive him.

Francis kissed his son’s forehead and looked into his incredible blue eyes, wordlessly asking if he was ready.

Alfred nodded eagerly in answer, wrapping his arms around Francis’ shoulders and closing his eyes. Francis wasted no more time and began moving, slowly at first, then building up to a rhythm remembered, allowing mutual ecstasy to pool and gather within their united bodies until almost breaking point, and pushing through swiftly so they could reach their climax together.

Even he knew this was absolutely forbidden in every possible way, but Alfred had never felt so complete as he did now, as if he was finally whole instead of lost and drifting without a purpose in life. Father and son gazed drowsily into each other’s eyes, utterly sated, drunk with pleasure, and they simply lay like that for several minutes, not wanting to interrupt this feeling.

They spent the rest of the small hours making love, gradually getting used to each other’s body after years of separation, as if this could be their last night on earth and they had to make the most of every moment. But soon, too soon, the treacherous sky began to lighten from midnight black to cobalt blue to grey.

“Francis, do you want to sleep in the other room?” Alfred asked, as he stood up and drew a curtain aside to catch a quick glimpse of the horizon. “I will watch over you, of course.” For Alfred could stay out in the sun, always could, and did not require sleep during daylight like the other vampires. It was one of his many peculiarities that Francis could not explain, and that he took care to keep secret from the rest of their kind.

“I would rather stay here with you,” Francis said, to Alfred’s confusion.

“Stay here? Why? To watch the sunrise or something?”

“Oui…”

“Pfft, are you mad? You’d burn into ashes if you look at the sun! Unless…” Alfred gaped at him in horror. “You tire of your vampiric ways and wish for death?!”

Chuckling softly, Francis shook his head. “How can I wish for death when I have you now? I love you, Alfred, and I never intend to leave you. But if it makes you feel better…” He pulled the blanket off of the bed and draped it over his head, grinning back at Alfred from his makeshift shelter.

“You are getting old, papa, old and senile,” Alfred muttered, his chest aching strangely, partly out of worry and partly out of some other indefinable emotion, but before he could say anything else, the rays of the sun were already lighting up the rose-tinged sky. He quickly turned to look at Francis, who had covered his eyes with his hands like a child afraid of the dark. Because Francis had not seen the sun in almost a thousand years, always needing to hide or go underground before dawn, and he was not sure what walking in daylight would be like, if his efforts to achieve mastery over the vampire’s supreme weakness would be worth such long separation from his son.

“Francis, oh Francis,” Alfred whispered, voice wavering in awe as he reached over to pull Francis’ hands away from his eyes. “Look… the sun. Can you see it?”

Francis let himself be led to the balcony, his mouth hanging open in a very inelegant manner as he stared about him in astonishment. Sure enough, the sun was halfway over the horizon, and he was not hurting or burning or dying in its glare. The warm glow of the sun was breathtaking, comforting on his skin, bringing back vague memories of his human life, centuries ago.

But even more beautiful to Francis was the sight of Alfred at his side, alabaster skin faintly glittering in the light, a wide brilliant smile on his sweet face. It was the first time he had seen such a sight, and had he a heart, it would be broken again in that instant.

“I don’t know how you did it, Francis, but… you’re really walking in the sun.”

“It is because I am old and senile, as you said,” Francis replied distractedly, his attention fixed on Alfred’s sparkling. Noticing him staring, Alfred laughed and threw his arms about Francis again.

“Bonjour, mon amour…”

“Bonjour…”


End file.
